


no one like you

by chemicalburnfromthespiralperm



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Season/Series 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:24:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10041443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemicalburnfromthespiralperm/pseuds/chemicalburnfromthespiralperm
Summary: sam deals with mary's confession - or...  he doesn't.





	

Dean's been watching him like a hawk since all this started -- since Mary came back, since he rescued him, since... everything. Those BMOL sons of bitches that tortured and...

Dean didn't know there was anything worse than torture until he went to hell and someone put on his brother's face and told him he loved him.

He's got a beer in one hand and his phone in the other. He's not sure what he's waiting for, or if he's dreading something. There's always an uneasy feeling in his gut, one that's nestled beyond his bones and into the marrow, into the very genetic make up of Dean Winchester. He's learned to listen to it and it's saved their lives. When he ignores it, one of them normally dies. It ain't complicated. Maybe he's waiting for a call from Mary, or Cass... He watches the darkness paint the bunker with watercolor blues and purples, shiny lights from computers and things charging.

That feeling starts nagging at him and it's not about the phone. He jostles it and the screen lights up to tell him it's 2:47am. Damnit, he needs to sleep. He gets up, leaves a mess where he sat and heads down the hall to his room and that's when he hears it.

Sam is crying.

He doesn't even hesitate before going inside. Sam is his priority and if he's watching some gay ass movie that makes him cry and gets embarrassed, well... that's best case scenario. What Dean finds is worst case.

His little brother is tossing and turning in his bed, dead asleep. He's having a nightmare and Dean almost wishes there had been a stupid chick flick to laugh at. He moves swiftly to the side of Sam's bed and eases down onto it. He knows getting Sam out of night terrors is no easy feat - he dealt with it until Sam was 11, and after Jess died, and after dad died, and after Dean came back and... He gently rests his hand on Sam's back and starts to rub him, ease him out of it, and it works until Sam jolts upright, grabs the gun under his pillow and cocks it right and Dean's sternum.

"Sammy..."

His heart is thrumming inside his chest. He can feel the cool metal through his shirt.

"Sam..."

His little brother's eyes are wide and terrified, flitting around the room, trying to find out where he is, if he's safe, who's in front of him. Dean's about to shit his pants. His arms are raised, a truce, a "I'm not gonna hurt you," hands up, don't shoot.

"Sammy, it's me. It's Dean. You're at home, buddy... You wanna - you wanna remove that from my ribcage, dude?" He's trying to speak steady but every word sounds like it's on a trampoline. Sam finally makes eye contact with him, and Sam's chest deflates a little.

"Dean?"

"Ya, baby. I'm here. It's me. You were dreaming. The gun."

"The what?"

"The gun, Sam? The one you got aimed at my heart?"

That's when little brother finally comes crashing back into Sam's brain. He's Dean's little brother and he's got a gun aimed at his brother's chest. He gasps and immediately removes it, safely decocks it and puts it on the table behind Dean. He wastes no time beating himself up for it, putting his hands on his face and scrubbing at his eyes while his chest does that "I'm gonna cry" thing that Dean's hated since the day Sammy was born.

"Hey, hey. Don't. Don't do that. You didn't know. I shouldn't have woke you up like that. C'mere, babe." He pulls Sam into his arms and that's probably the last thing he should have done because it makes Sam cry. His brother lets go, everything pent up, all the rage, the anger, the PTSD, and the betrayal from their mother that evening. She supposed to be their mother, ain't she? So where's she in all this? Why is Dean the one comforting Sam from a nightmare when it's Mary's job?

Dean doesn't even call her mom. She's just... Mary.

Dean saw this whole damn time how attached Sam had been from the jump. He'd wished his entire life to be able to call someone mom, and ya, they'd had moms before - Ellen, Jody... but never someone they could call that. Sam's taken advantage of every second of it even when she didn't deserve it.

He presses his lips to the side of Sam's head and for a moment feels so possessive.

She's not his mother - Dean is. Dean's taken care of him, Dean's raised him, Dean's kissed booboos and changed shitty diapers and taught him how to shave and how to talk to girls. Sammy never learned to cook because Dean always did it for him. Sammy never learned to do laundry because Dean always did it for him. Sammy never learned to fall in love because Dean always did it for him.

"Hey, buddy. Come on, love. Sit up. Calm down. You're okay right? Where are you?"

Sam leans back, all that hair falling into his face while he wipes his tears. "I'm... I'm at home."

"Where is home?"

"Th-the bunker. I'm in my room."

"You sure?"

Sam finally looks up at him and Dean's under the same magic spell he's been under since he was four years old. Those eyes turn technicolor when Sam cries and Dean's mesmerized.

"Ya... Dude, I'm sorry. I didn-"

Dean grunts and shakes his head. "You didn't know. Maybe we move the gun for now. Can't believe you still sleep with that thing under your pillow. You know nothin's gonna hurt us in here."

Sam nods and pulls his knees to his chest, rests his head on top of them and sighs heavily. Dean can tell he's thinkin' about the day when he wakes up at 6am after sleeping through the night like a normal person. Dean kinda chides himself for not thinking this would be a problem sooner. Sam's had nightmares his whole life.

"What're you thinkin' about, dude? Don't get lost in there." Dean reaches forward to push Sam's hair out of his face and Sam seems to relax under the touch so Dean moves closer. If it makes Sam feel better, Dean'll do it a thousand times over. His brother, or, to put it more honestly, his baby. Whatever Sam is...

"I can't believe her."

"Mom?"

Sam nods. "I... I know she doesn't know what happened, not like you do, but... I'm... I'm her son."

"No, you're not. You're mine." Sam finally looks up at him underneath shaggy hair, quizzical look on his face. "I raised you. She didn't. You're my brother, ya, but you're also my son. I don't give a damn what anyone has to say. I did and would do everything for you, including kill every last one of those sons a bitches. She knows what working with them means. Ya, she's our mom, but does she have an attachment to us? Does she even know us, does she even want to know? I been askin' myself that since day one, Sam."

Sam sniffles a little, and he looks more like a kid than he did when he was actually a kid, and it breaks Dean's heart in a way he's not sure he'll ever fix.

"I just... I wanted so badly to have her, you know? I'm terrified to say this out loud but she's nothing like I imagined her to be. The girl we met in the 70's? That's the mom I thought I'd have. The one that loved us too much. That would have killed herself for us, and she did, for me. I'm here because of her. And now she's here, and I just... I still feel this empty hole. I don't know if I'll ever fix it."

Dean leans forward and presses a kiss to Sam's forehead, and again, he seems to relax and that makes it easier for Dean to sleep at night.

"I just keep gettin' proved to that the only family I got that won't let me down is you."

That makes Sam's eyes sparkle with pain or love, Dean's not sure, but he doesn't care.

"Gimme a kiss and go to sleep. We'll talk more tomorrow."

Sam's lips land on the corner of Dean's mouth and Dean feels relieved, like all his fears were erased with that little touch.

"You pull a gun on me again, kid, and I'm fightin' back."


End file.
